Brown Eyed Lies
by BelieveYouAre
Summary: Mac, the once exuberant eight year old that bounced around Foster's with his best friend Bloo, is now a dull shell of what he used to be. A playful attack from Bloo is all that's needed to reveal the secrets of a certain brown-eyed boy.
1. Chapter 1

"C'mon, Mac!" Bloo whined, practically jumping with excitement.

"I'm coming, Bloo." he replied tiredly. He trudged into the foyer, not as excited as he was a month ago. After a week of Bloo's constant begging and pleading, she had agreed to take Mac and Bloo to the beach. Wilt was also coming, but only because Frankie was determined to get a tan and she needed Wilt to make sure Bloo didn't get arrested—again.

The four of them hopped into the Foster's van, Frankie in the driver's seat. While Bloo chatted endlessly about what they were going to do first, Wilt sent a worried glance to Mac.

"Hey, Mac, are you okay?" he asked.

Mac looked up. He gave the tall imaginary friend a small smile. "Yeah, just tired, that's all."

Wilt nodded, deciding to let it go. Mac did look tired recently. Upon closer inspection, he could see the dark smudges under the eight year old's eyes, the way his shoulder's slumped when he walked, how he rarely smiled, and never seemed happy.

"Mac," Bloo complained, waving a hand in front of the dazed boy's face. "Mac, are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry, Bloo." Mac mumbled.

"Whatever, buddy." Bloo said, cocking his head at his creator's lack of vigor and laughter. "Hey," he said with a puzzled frown. "I know you said you're tired, but are you sure? You look like you just got run over with a bus."

Mac waved his hand mindlessly, imitating a smile. "I'm fine, I swear."

But Bloo could see right through the act Mac was putting on. He and Mac had been together as best friends since Mac created him at three years old, and if Mac thought he was fooling his best friend, then he was dead wrong.

"Mac—" Bloo began. His sentence was cut off short, though, as the bus jerked to a stop, sending Bloo and Mac into the seat in front of them.

"Hey, Frankie!" Bloo cried, rubbing at his face.

Seeing that they had arrived at their destination, the humans and imaginaries exited the van.

As Frankie set up a tanning spot on the sand, and Wilt sat down by the water to watch the two best friends, Bloo ran toward the water, Mac trailing behind him.

"Mac, Mac! C'mon, get in the water!" Bloo shouted, grinning cheekily.

Mac wrapped his arms around his abdomen protectively. "Sorry, Bloo. I just don't feel like getting wet, today."

"Oh, come on!" Bloo whined pleadingly. "You have to! This is the beach!"

"Get in, get in, get in, get in, get in—!" he chanted.

"Bloo, I'm not getting in. Sorry," he said to the sad blue blob.

"Yes, you are." Bloo's sullen face suddenly twisted into a Cheshire cat grin. Bloo began to swim back to the shore. Mac's eyes widened, and Bloo faltered in his swimming, but was quickly moving once again. He had no idea why Mac was so afraid to get in the water, but he was now more determined than ever to find out.

Bloo trudged out of the water and toward the retreating brunette. "Bloo, don't. I'm serious," he warned, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

The imaginary friend lunged, attacking his creator rather violently, yet in a playful manner. Mac cried out, puzzling the blob. Bloo frowned at the pained look on his best friend's face. His eyes opened, big brown orbs shimmering with unshed tears.

"Oh my God, Mac! Are you okay?" Bloo fussed.

"Just…get…off me…please," Mac gasped softly.

Bloo rolled off of Mac without hesitation. The eight year old boy groaned quietly, using his arms to push himself into a sitting position. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees and trying to breathe past the throbbing of his ribs, the ache that threatened to constrict his breathing completely in the span of a millisecond.

"Hey…bud?" Bloo asked gently, putting a hand on Mac's shoulder. "I might've hurt you bad. Let me check your stomach."

Mac shook his head rapidly, still trying to regain his breath. "No," he panted.

The only thing Mac could think was: _He's going to see, he's going to find out._

Sensing his creator's distress, Bloo sighed, scooting closer and giving the boy a one-armed hug, wary of his injury.

"Wilt!" he called.

"Yes, Bloo?" he replied, finally looking up from the sand.

"Something's wrong with Mac!"

Wilt wasted no time arriving at the scene. He knelt down so that he was eye-level with Mac, which was honestly a long way down. "What happened?"

"I don't know!" Bloo exclaimed. "I tackled him 'cause he wouldn't get in the water, and I think he got hurt."

"Mac, little buddy, where does it hurt?" the tall imaginary asked tentatively.

"I'm…fine…"

"Mac, I need to know where it hurts. You have to let me see." He reached a hand to Mac, grabbing his sleeves in an attempt to pull it up.

Suddenly, Mac jumped up like a spring that had been wound a bit too tight. "Okay, I'll—I'll show you! Just don't touch me!"

Wilt and Bloo stared in bewilderment at Mac's odd behavior.

The small boy grasped the hem of his shirt. Squeezing his eyes shut, he lifted his shirt until it was just below his chest.

Wilt and Bloo's sharp intakes of breath were immediate.

…

**Hehe, please review. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm a bad, bad person, I know. Honestly, I'm not all that crazy about this story, like, at all, but it also seems to be one of my most popular stories. So, I'm going to stop boring you with this stupid note and get on to the chapter!**

**…**

_ Wilt and Bloo's sharp intakes of breath were immediate._

"Did I do that?" Bloo gasped.

Mac's stomach was covered in bruises, ranging from splotches of purple to smudges of blue and smears of sickly yellow and black. They disappeared under his waistline and sleeves, covered by the material despite the heat in the air. A bead of sweat ran down the side of Mac's face, and whether I was from anxiety or the temperature, they didn't know.

"H-How about we go sit in the bus for a while, okay? Frankie's reading right now, so we can just let her relax until it's time to go." Wilt said.

The three of them made their way across the beach and to the Foster's bus, wary of the people on beach towels scattered across the sand. Mac walked with his head down, knocking his fists together subconsciously. Bloo and Wilt watched him worriedly.

It was even hotter inside of the bus, but seeing as Wilt had the spare set of keys, he put them in the ignition and cranked the air conditioner.

"Mac, I'm really, really, really sorry. I swear I had no idea that you were gonna get hurt. I—" Bloo rambled.

"Bloo," Mac cut him off. "You didn't do anything."

"But—"

"It wasn't you," he said.

"Th-then who was it?" Bloo stammered.

"I can't tell you," Mac said softly.

"Mac, if you don't tell us, then we'll have to go get Frankie and have her take a look at your stomach," Wilt warned. He hated to resort to something so close to blackmail, but the tall red basketball player had a feeling that wherever Mac had gotten those bruises was severe, and that it wasn't going to stop without some kind of intervention.

Minutes passed in silence. No one spoke, and no one moved. There was nothing but the sound of their breathing and the hushed sounds of the beach to fill their ears.

"My mom has a new boyfriend," Mac blurted.

"And?" Bloo pressed. "Did he do that to you?"

Mac nodded slowly. He turned to Wilt. "Wilt, what's an a**hole?"

He asked the question with such innocence and cluelessness that Wilt was taken aback. "What? Where'd you here that word?"

"That's what Terrance called Tim, Mom's boyfriend."

"It's a bad word, bud. He shouldn't have said it." Wilt informed the eight-year-old.

"Why'd he hit you, Mac? Is he evil, like Terrance?" Bloo asked.

"Worse," Mac said softly. "He does it whenever my mom isn't around. He says that I'm just holding her back. He told me that the reason my mom is never around anymore is because she's trying to get away from me."

"That's not true," Wilt countered.

"But it is. She's always at his house, now. She leaves me with Terrance." Mac told the startled pair.

"She's trying to get away from me, I know it." Mac said sadly. "One of these days, she isn't going to come home."


	3. Chapter 3

The ride back to Foster's was long and awkward. The uncomfortable silence stretched out over the four passengers like a thick layer of plastic wrap, making every movement seem out of place, and every word distorted.

"What's wrong with you guys?" Frankie blurted, her caretaker instincts kicking in.

Bloo, ever skilling in lying, collapsed dramatically onto his side. "We're _so tired_," he whined, "and it's _hot_."

Mac smiled weakly from the seat next to Bloo's.

Wilt, however, said nothing, sick to his stomach at the thought of what was going on behind the closed doors of Mac's home, and not telling Frankie like he should have.

Frankie, still unsure and more than worried, continued to drive in silence. Her eyes lingered on a certain brown-eyed boy, though. He was smiling, but his eyes and body said something else entirely. His slumped shoulders screamed defeat. His eyes were completely unaffected and untouched by the smile glued to his lips.

Frankie frowned, and made a mental note to herself to keep a closer eye on the two imaginary friends and one certain brown-eyed boy in the backseat.

…

**A/N: Awfully, terribly short, I know. I'm sorry, I just don't see much of a future for this story. It won't be discontinued, just awfully slow and not too great, as you can see. Sorry. **


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